


We Need a Little Christmas Now

by BroadwayBaggins



Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cooking, F/M, christmas pudding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins
Summary: Jed makes a late night discovery in the kitchen of Mansion House





	

“Is this going to become a habit of ours? Me finding you in the kitchen slaving away long after everyone else has gone to bed?”

Jed’s tone was light and teasing, but as he stepped into the candlelit room he quickly realized his mistake. Mary looked more out of sorts than he had seen her in quite some time–her hair disheveled and falling out of her snood, her apron stained and mussed, the smell of something burnt lingering in the air. There was a pot bubbling away over the fire and she was clutching her arm in a way that immediately caused little pinpricks of worry to flicker through Jed’s mind. Within an instant he was by her side, one hand on her other arm and the other around her waist, drawing her to sit in the nearest chair. The way she sank into it without complaint confirmed his suspicions that something was truly wrong with Mary Phinney.

His eyes searched her face, and she quickly looked away, but not before he saw the lingering remains of tears streaking down her cheeks.

“Mary, what’s happened?” he whispered.

She sniffed one, rubbing a hand across her eyes as if rubbing away tiredness instead of tears. “I’ve made a terrible mess of things.”

“I hardly think that’s possible.”

“Trust me, Doctor Foster, it is.” Her posture had stiffened, and the use of his title and surname instead of his Christian name slipping from her lips, the way he had grown so used to in the last few months, felt like a slap in the face.

“How? What happened?”

“I was trying to make the Christmas pudding, only it’s been so long since I’ve done it–Gustav didn’t like it, you see, and after he died I didn’t have the heart to bring the tradition back…”

She sniffed again, looking at him as if expecting him to interrupt. When he remained silent, she went on. “It was a silly idea from the start. but Chaplain Hopkins brought it up with one of the boys, Mitchell Davis, and he seemed so excited about it–you know how despondent he’s been lately.” Jed nodded. The young man in question had been suffering from a particularly bad case of soldier’s heart, and Jed and Mary had been running themselves ragged trying to treat him while keeping his affliction secret from Doctor Hale, who still refused to believe the ailment was anything more than cowardice. Mary swallowed, shaking her head. “And then word got around the ward that there might be one for Christmas dinner, and they were all so excited to have a little piece of home, and how could i deny them the one thing that has brought them a bit of true happiness since they got here?”

She was looking at him with such desperation that Jed’s heart wanted to burst, and his arms ached to hold her. Still, he sensed that now was not the right time, not when she still had more to say, not when she was still holding her arm and looking pained. He settled for reaching for her hand instead, grabbing it and holding on tight.

“I’m very out of practice, but I thought it couldn’t be that hard to remember how to make a simple Christmas pudding. Finding the ingredients was a bit of a challenge, but the Green family donated some items, and Emma even helped me stir it up to start with.” She smiled faintly. “She wouldn’t tell me what her wish was, but we did talk while we worked, and it was quite nice until she had to leave for the night. After that,  I had no one to help–the Sisters have their hands full with the boys and their extra prayers this time of year, and Anne made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with the Christmas pudding–Emma offered to send Belinda by, but I can’t steal what little free time the woman has–and Charlotte has been spending her time in the contraband camp, dealing with the sick there. Samuel went with her. It seems no one can be spared, and I know I mustn’t complain, but it is a very big job, too big for one person…”

“Mary,” he whispered, “why didn’t you ask me?”

“You?” The thought had clearly never occurred to her. “You wanted to help me make a Christmas pudding?”

“Well, in truth, I’ve never done it before. My mother wasn’t fond of it–too rich, she said. So you would have to instruct me. But I have two willing hands that are very capable of helping.” He looked down at her arm, noticing for the first time the angry red mark across her skin. “Perhaps more so than you are at the moment…”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Mary said quickly. “Just a burn. I was careless with the pot. I was going to treat it, but I lost track of time…”

“I’ll see to your arm,” Jed said firmly. “And then we can see about this pudding of yours.”

“Are you really going to sacrifice what precious little time you have to rest…by helping me stir up a Christmas pudding?” Mary asked, her tone half-scolding, half-incredulous.

“Of course I am. If it means more time spent with you, and it will make you happy and benefit the boys at the same time…how can I say no?” Jed smiled, leaning down and cupping her cheek in his hand. He kissed her softly, tasting salt and sugar on her lips, and she returned the kiss, pulling away far sooner than he wanted.

“Besides, you said something about a wish…and I can think of several I would like to see come true.”

**Author's Note:**

> On Thanksgiving I wrote a little drabble involving Jed, Mary, and pies. This can be considered a follow-up to that, although a bit more in depth and hopefully not just rehashing an old idea! 
> 
> Christmas pudding was/is a traditional English dessert made of raisins, nutmeg, cloves, ginger, eggs, suet (mutton or beef fat...sounds appetizing in a dessert, no?), sometimes treacle or molasses, and alcohol of some kind, usually brandy but sometimes beer, which allows it to keep for an absurdly long time by modern standards. It is traditionally served with holly on top and the whole family used to help make it on an occasion called Stir-Up Sunday, taking turns stirring because it was apparently quite taxing. Another tradition involved making a wish while the pudding is being stirred, which I have included here.
> 
> Title comes from the song "We Need a Little Christmas," which has become quite famous on its own but was originally written for the Broadway musical Mame.


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